In My Not So Humble Opinion

Back in the 70′s, a fashion consultant (whose name I totally forget) said that if you put a pencil under your breasts and it stays there, you shouldn’t go braless. I followed her instructions and then proudly slipped into my little halter top. I went out into the California sun and strutted my stuff, comfortable in the conviction that I was not committing a fashion faux pas with my unfettered boobies.

I have nothing against bralessness. If you have amazing tatas and want to show them off, be my guest. If your gigantic rack defies gravity, by all means, show the world what daddy bought you. But, if you fail the pencil test, you might want to consider wearing a bra to help keep your knockers from moving further south.

There are times, however, when a bra should not be considered optional equipment:

If you wear a belt to keep your pendulous titties from hitting you in the knees, you need a bra. If you can fit a 2-liter bottle of soda under each fun bag and they don’t fall out, you need a bra. If you can go jogging while those 2-liters are wedged under your mammouth gazongas, and they still stay put, for safety’s sake, you should wear a bra to make sure they don’t bounce up, hit you in the head, and knock you out cold.

And if, when crossing the street (as you did in front of me today), an observer (again, me) is led to wonder whether a pack of rabid opossums are fighting their way out of your blouse as your more than ample busom bounces, jiggles, and lurches ahead of you, please, for the sake of all that’s holy, protect us from that horror and put on a bra.

Once you round up the mammaries in your over the shoulder boulder holder, go one step further and tighten up the straps. They’re adjustable for a reason. Nips should not be pointing to the ground. Hoist those puppies back up to home base. Let your headlights lead the way in front of you. Your back will thank you. And so will I.

I have a cleaning lady.

I can hear you thinking:

• That’s awesome!
• I want a cleaning lady!
• She can afford a cleaning lady?

So, I’ll respond:

• It sure is.
• Everyone should have one.
• Not really.

She’s cleaning my house, and I’m fixing her website. And helping her with marketing her business. She’s totally getting the raw end of the deal.

I don’t think I’m a slob. Entirely. But with 4 surgeries in the span of two years, I’ve had other priorities.

Not that I don’t like a clean house. I love a clean house. A house where everything is in its place, and I know where that place is when I go to look for it.

Thursday, the cleaning lady came over for 4 hours so we could organize my office. Four hours. Turns out the room is bigger than I thought. And, the top of my desk is made of wood. See?

Those are tic tacs on the desk, by the way. No funny business here.

She also helped me organize my closet. Skirts at one end, pants at the other, dresses and shirts in-between. Arranged by color and sleeve length. I discovered I have a lot of duplicates. Three purple suits, for example. Every woman should have at least one purple suit. I have three. Awesome.

More amazing than the sight of my desk top was the fact that she showed up again today to clean my kitchen. Sally (that’s her name, Sally) said to me, “You don’t have to be embarrassed by your kitchen. This is the kind of challenge I love.” That was her polite way of saying, “Holy crap, girl, when was the last time you cleaned this room???”

In addition to getting all excited about fighting grime, Sally teaches parents how to get their kids to clean their room. I wish I had met her 20 years ago, when my daughter was young. I wouldn’t have been afraid of being attacked by the monsters growing under her bed. And it would have saved her from my endless nagging. We could have spent more quality time together, just hanging out, or taking goofy pictures of ourselves in the 4-pictures-for-a-dollar photo booth at the mall.

Everyone should have a cleaning lady. It’s a liberating feeling, doing what I want, without the drudgery of cleaning house. I can enjoy living here, in the house I chose, sitting on the furniture I bought, and not feel enslaved by housework.

You could have a cleaning lady, too, if you want. Barter is a wonderful thing. What do you like to do, that you’re good at, that someone else would like in trade? Can you cut hair? Babysit? Design a twitter background? Weed a garden? Ask around. Pull business cards off the bulletin board at the supermarket. Get creative.

If you’ll excuse me, I’m headed to the kitchen. Just to stand there and marvel at the sparkling surfaces. Yeah, I could really get used to this.

A quick look at the wireless networks in my neighborhood shows one person who has an awesome sense of humor, two with high self-esteem, and one user totally devoid of imagination and whimsey.

“You’re too close to my house!” is the best name for a network, ever, but I’m not sure whether it’s a warning or a taunt. But, they’ve set the bar pretty high. I’ve got to keep up with the Joneses and rename my network. Something more awesome than it is right now.

Here’s the list of possibilities, inspired by the 60 Dumbest Celebrity Quotes

• I invented the internet
• television by candlelight
• tip of the ice cube
• off button on
• alphabetical by height
• Norman Einstein

I’m leaning towards “Leave Britney alone!!” for its simplicity and social commentary. What do you think?

If you want to lend a hand, vote for your favorite in the comments. Or suggest one of your own. Anything but “home.”

My computer runs a bit on the warm side, so I ran a test with this program called “Reimage – PC Repair Online” to see if it was overheating. I am so glad I did, because it is 10,000 times hotter than the sun.

Oh my god. If this is true, I am witnessing a thermonuclear meltdown in progress. My computer is going to sink down to the earth’s molten core, go through the other side, and emerge as the brightest star in the universe.

Then, the Dell Precision 490 Workstation Star will continue to burn hot and bright, using up all its resources until it explodes as the Dell Super Nova. It will suck all energy from the earth and our galaxy will become a huge black hole, which will be powerful enough to draw in everything from all the neighboring galaxies, until there is nothing left. Life, as we know it, will end.

All because Dell couldn’t be bothered to put good case fans in their workstation computers. Way to go, Dell, you just destroyed the universe.

You can’t travel more than a couple of blocks in the Denver Metro Area without passing a Medical Marijuana dispensary. The local newspapers carry ads for them, and Westword, the local liberal independent newspaper, is overtaken by ads. Every one of these ads is essentially the same, “Doctor on premises, show up with $75 for an “exam” and you’ll get a prescription.”

Since these facilities also advertise that “no medical records are necessary” to get your marijuana card, the “patient” just needs to tell the doctor the right things to get approved. Too much stress? Approved. Headaches on a regular basis? Approved. Chronic pain? Approved. Approved. Approved.

Colorado has the distinction of leading the country in Medical Marijuana licenses; Denver has the highest concentration, as every drug dealer looks to jump in on the scam. Instead on standing on a street corner hawking their wares, and getting unwanted attention from the police, they can now sit behind their 5-leaf sign and sell legally, at many times the price. What business owner alive wouldn’t want such a sweet deal? Police protection, endorsement by the medical community, and a license to make more money than ever, while your clients come to you?

These facilities all have creative names: Nature’s Cure, Natural Healing, and (who are we kidding, this will be hilarious) Dr. Doobie.

Don’t get me wrong; I don’t have the slightest problem with anyone ingesting marijuana. They can eat it, smoke it, cram it into an enema if they so choose. The problem I have with ‘Medical Marijuana’ is that it is claimed to be medicine, only if used in an approved fashion, and prescribed by an approved vendor. If it truly is “medicine,” then it should be sold in pharmacies with all the other prescription drugs. If it doesn’t have a place on the druggist’s shelves, it doesn’t need to be regulated.

Marijuana should never have been illegal in the first place. It’s a plant that grows naturally that can be found in fields and ditches all around the country.  Making it a crime turned regular citizens into criminals, and pushed the distribution underground, into the hands of the drug cartels. Criminalizing the possession of marijuana contributed to the violent crimes committed every day by “bad guys”. The local college kid who is buying pot isn’t killing people for stepping over the line into his territory. He’s not turning his little sister into a drug user. And, he’s not forcing children to carry drugs from the field to the corner dealer. The law is making that happen.

Those who fought the legalization of pot claimed that it would create a slippery slope that would lead to the full legalization of marijuana. I certainly hope so. Legalize it, tax it, control the production and processing so that there is a consistent high quality product. Free all the innocent people who have been spending their lives in prison just because they had an ounce in their pocket, or a plant in their back yard.

Marijuana is not a drug of violence. There are no crimes committed by the end user in his quest to acquire a quarter. There are no documented cases of a traffic fatality that is linked to pot use.

In fact, legalize all drugs. The “War on Drugs” never stood a chance. It’s a lost cause. Legalize the product, and prosecute the crimes committed. Treat impaired drivers under the influence of any drug the same as the most popular, legal drug, alcohol. Take all the money that’s wasted clearing marijuana fields and train more police officers to protect the public.

And, no…I don’t smoke, eat, or otherwise ingest marijuana. And I don’t care if you do. Just don’t call it medicine.